The C Word
by Snotwing
Summary: Gibbs has a heart attack and the doctor prescribes a week without caffeine - Tony and Ducky have to make it happen. CH 7 up!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Set present time (unless I change my mind). Enjoy.

** * ** * ** * **

Bzzzzzt.

Bzzzzzt.

Bzzzzzt.

"Argh!" Tony flailed about in the dark, trying to find his phone – he squinted at his alarm clock until the fuzzy red digits came into focus – at three in the morning. Finally, he found his cell and, without checking the caller ID, opened it in mid 'bzzzzt'.

"DiNozzo!"

"Ah, Tony, I'm glad you answered. Look, I know it's early, but I need you to come to Bethesda, right away." Ducky's tone, although unhurried (as per usual) was tinged with worry. Tony knew that if he could discern that with his sleep fogged brain, something was really, REALLY wrong.

"Yeah, Duck, I'm on my way." Tony was already struggling into a pair of jeans and searching for an acceptable T-shirt. "What is it, Ducky? Is it Jethro?"

"I'm afraid so, Anthony…" The elderly MD seemed hesitant to continue.

"Well, what is it? He wasn't shot again, was he?" Tony demanded. The early hour, combined with this new, un-known threat/worry, made him cranky.

"Goodness, no! It's his heart. He had a heart attack earlier this morning. He managed –thank God – to dial 911 and let them know what was happening. He's fine, for the time being. The resident on duty said that it was a relatively minor attack."

"And –" Tony prompted, knowing that there was more.

"Well, it seems that during his phone call he lost his grip on the workbench he was leaning on –"

"He was working on that damn boat!" Tony interrupted, lashing out at Gibbs' night-time obsession. He didn't know much about heart-attacks, but he did know that stress (and little sleep) could be just as inviting as a bad diet and high cholesterol.

"Yes, well, as I was saying." Ducky sounded annoyed at the interruption, but continued without comment. "He slipped and hit his head. He was unconscious when the EMT's found him – they suspect he has a concussion. We won't know how serious it is until he wakes."

"He's unconscious? What time did they bring him in?" Tony was already out his door and flying down the stairwell – he hadn't been able to wait for the elevator, even though he lived on the seventh floor of his apartment building.

"They got him to the hospital around 2:15 am, and called me shortly thereafter. I called you as soon as I'd spoken with the doctor."

"Alright, Duck. I'm on my way. See you in a few."

"Yes, Anthony. Do be careful – I would hate to have to explain to Jethro _why_ you were in a car accident."

"Yeah, Duck, I'll drive safely. Call me if he wakes."

Without waiting for a response, Tony snapped his cell shut and gunned his mustang.

_Please make him be alright_, he thought frantically as he peeled out of the parking lot and sped towards Bethesda Military Hospital.

** * ** * ** * **

The early morning emergency staff of Bethesda Military Hospital flinched as one very worried Anthony DiNozzo stormed down the hallway. The old hats knew DiNozzo – he was there often enough – and they also understood that it was actually far, far worse we he _walked_ in of his own accord. That meant that someone he cared about was hurt. There was an especially unlucky doctor on duty at the moment – and they were about to find out just how unlucky. Pretty soon, all the nurses and residents knew to cross their fingers and hope that it wasn't _their_ doctor that patched up DiNozzo's loved one.

_I wonder if this is how Gibbs feels all the time_, he thought, watching yet another skinny intern cringe as he passed.

"Athony, I was just about to call you," Ducky exclaimed as soon as he caught sight of the younger man. "Dr. Mansfield has just informed me that Jethro is awake. He's still a bit fuzzy, but Dr. Mansfield says there is no sign of excessive trauma or extreme disorientation. He thinks the concussion is just a mild thing. He's going to be alright, dear boy! Well, come on, let's go see him."

"Duck, wait," Tony sighed. He was extremely relieved that the boss would be okay, but he knew that the 'trouble' had only just begun. "Where is Dr. Mansfield?"

"Um," surprised, Ducky spun around trying to spot the missing doctor. "Ah, there is his, talking to the nurse in the yellow scrubs."

"Okay, Duck. You go see Gibbs, but don't tell him I'm here." The M.D.'s eyes widened incredulously.

"Why ever not? Surely you know –"

"Yes, Duck, I know. Just trust me on this, okay? I'll tell you more _after_ I talk to Mansfield."

Dr. Mallard hesitated and Tony could practically _hear_ his misgivings. But there was something Tony had to know first, something that had him more worried than Gibbs' heart attack concussion combination. He tried to give Ducky a reassuring look which didn't appear to have much effect. Nonetheless, the elder man nodded and shuffled away to visit his friend.

Squaring his shoulders, _Very_ Special Agent DiNozzo turned to face Dr. Mansfield, who was still deep in conversation with the yellow nurse.

"Mansfield!" he barked, smirking when he got an immediate response. Yup, Mansfield was definitely ex-military.

"Can I help you?" Dr. Mansfield was a tall serious-faced man in his late thirties. If Tony had to guess, he would bet the doctor was of Irish descent.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs: male, mid-forties, heart attack and concussion. Report."

Barking orders was not Tony's usual style, but he was too wound up to smile and play nice. Mansfield unconsciously stood at attention and opened his mouth to respond – before remembering that he didn't have to answer the cranky stranger. Tony almost laughed at his indignant expression.

"Only family –"

"Yeah, yeah, I am."

"Are you his son?" Mansfield sounded more than a bit skeptical.

"Doc," Tony growled. "Just tell me how he's doing."

"Ahm, well." Mansfield paused to fiddle with the papers on his clipboard. "He's stable. Heart attack was mild. He was slightly disoriented when he woke, but was still able to answer all the standard questions. The concussion is very slight. We'll want to keep him here for a few hours' observation, but he'll be free to go sometime today. Barring any unlikely complications, of course."

"Of course. Aftercare, doc?"

"Right, well he'll need to take a few days off from work – or is he retired?"

"You new here or something?" Tony shook his head, not giving him time to respond. "He's head of the Major Crime Response Team at NCIS. Retirement didn't work out too well, last time he tried it."

"Uh, right. Well, he'll want to take it easy for a few days. He'll also need to watch his cholesterol and blood pressure. So, basically what you would expect. Less stress, more healthy food, less _un_healthy food. Regular exercise." Mansfield went down the list matter-of-factly.

"Caffeine?" The doctor's eyebrows rose.

"Is that a problem?"

"He prolly drinks more than ten cups of coffee a day. That couldn't have had anything to do with his heart attack, could it?" This was the crux of the matter and Tony really, really wanted the doctor to say no.

"Yes"

That one word made Tony's stomach lurch. Mansfield wasn't finished, though.

"That would be unhealthy for anybody – and especially for someone like Mr. Gibbs - older, high stress job, family history of heart problems, and high blood pressure."

"_Damnit!_" Tony swore under his breath. He looked back up at Mansfield. "Recommendations?"

"He needs to dramatically reduce his daily caffeine intake. One or two cups a day won't hurt, more than three would be a little excessive."

"Right, doc. So all I have to do is get Gibbs to drink less coffee, get more rest, eat right, and not stress." Tony's voice was starting to take on a hysterical edge.

"Yes, if you want him to stay healthy. Even a mild heart attack can weaken the heart. Now that he's had one, he's at a much higher risk to have another. In fact, I would recommend a week off of work – and off of coffee. It'll be easier for him to settle into a new routine after that."

Tony stared at the doctor. Make Gibbs go a week without coffee, on leave? How in the hell was Tony supposed to pull that off?

Ducky could handle the healthy food stuff. As phys ed major, Tony knew what was healthy and what was not, but Ducky would definitely have more luck getting Gibbs to listen. Tony decided to talk to Ducky as soon as he was through visiting with Gibbs.

That left Tony with the resting and the coffee. Joy.

Tony thought fast. He had expected the leave time, but knew from experience that it wasn't a good idea. Gibbs would spend his time working in his basement drinking coffee and bourbon getting less sleep than he should and living off of take out. He would also worry about the team since Vance would most likely refuse to take them off rotation for a week.

So, Tony would have to make sure that Gibbs rested at work. Well, if they were lucky they wouldn't get a new case. If they did, Tony would just have to improvise.

Coffee – well that was a different story. The only thing to do was play it by ear.

"Uh, Mr. Gibbs?" It took Tony a minute to realize _he_ was being addressed. _That's right, he thinks I'm Gibbs' son._

"Sorry, Doc. And thanks. I'll make sure he does everything you've just said."

"Good. I'll talk to him, too, before he is released." Mansfield smiled and moved off.

_Fat chance, that, _he thought, watching the doctor walk back over the the nurse in yellow. _Gibbs has probably already checked himself out AMA._

Checking his phone, Tony saw that he was right. _3 missed calls, Ducky, _it read.

_This is going to be a fun week, _he thought sarcastically.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** I know absolutely nothing about medicine and doctor stuff. If you see an obvious, glaring error, let me know and I'll fix it. (BTW, story is based on new research that shows coffee may trigger heart attacks.) Thanks for reading, and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

The Alliance and the Plan

** * ** * ** * **

Tony was still staring at his phone when it rang. _Prolly turned it off, not just put it on silent_, he thought, then shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't made it past the lobby/reception area – he doubt there was any sensitive equipment close by. A picture of Ducky – the one he'd taken on Air One – popped up on the screen. Sighing, Tony answered.

"Hey, Duck, how's he doing?"

"Ah, hello, Gretchen. I wanted to thank you for agreeing to care for mother at such short notice."

"Duck?" _Less than ten minutes with Gibbs-post-heart attack and he's already gone batty!_

"Yes, well, I appreciate your willingness, but it really isn't necessary. I'm sorry for pulling you out of bed so early, but my friend insists he'll be fine." Tony thought that through.

"Gibbs told you not to tell anyone about the heart attack, didn't he?" Tony's tone was uncertain, but he couldn't think of any other _good_ reason for Ducky to be calling him Gretchen.

"Yes, quite right, my dear. I'll just drop Jethro off at his house, maybe stop for a cup of coffee, and then go home. You can just come at your regular time, my girl."

Tony almost dropped the phone at the word 'coffee'. _That's gonna be like a four letter word for the next hellish seven damn days. Except it's a six letter word and the days are going to be far, far worse than hellish._ He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"Look, Ducky, just drive slowly, would you? Don't stop for coffee," Tony hesitated, but he couldn't tell Ducky the terrible news with Gibbs sitting right next to him, he might blow his cover. "Take him straight to his house, and then call me when you can talk." A plan – a painfully reckless plan – was forming in his mind. Mission "Gibbs must not have coffee" was underway.

"Wonderful, and thank you again, dear girl." Ducky was unnaturally cheerful – _but then, _Tony reminded himself, _he doesn't know about the coffee ban yet._ Although, he'd been really stressing that he was talking to a girl – Ducky wouldn't be getting any pleasure out of that, would he?

"I think you enjoyed saying that a little too much, Duck," Tony probed.

"Ta-ta dear." Ducky chuckled, just a tiny bit.

Yup, who doesn't enjoy calling Gibbs' senior field agent and temporary secret caretaker a girl? Still, the ornery ME was his best and only ally in his fated endeavor. Together, they must stave off the Boss's monstrous addiction. They must protect the unwitting victim from Coffee's poisonous grasp!

_Oh, God, I'm waxing poetic. _He sighed – he always did, when he knew he was about to die.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony drove like a mad man, desperate to get to Gibbs' house in time. Ducky drove slowly on a normal day, so, even with his head start, Tony was sure to arrive first. The problem was that he had a small to-do list to take care of before they showed up.

After parking his car around the corner, DiNozzo sprinted towards Gibbs' house, thanking his lucky stars that Gibbs never locked his door. Once inside, he picked his way toward the garage. It took a few seconds of fumbling before he was able to locate the light switch. The single light bulb didn't _illuminate_ the garage, but it gave Tony enough light to work by – after all, he just had to find the water heater.

It was quick work to switch off the water, and then slice a line or two. What was a slightly damp garage compared when compared with the threat of a heart attack?

Tony switched the light off and went back inside to the kitchen. Leaving no trace of his presence, Tony turned the kitchen faucet on to make sure his plan worked. No water coming out of the faucet meant it was draining out in the Boss's garage. Tony felt bad about the mess, but knew it wouldn't be too big because he did turn off the water first. Tony would replace the bad line with a neatly clogged one before Gibbs' had a chance to really assess the damage or call a repair man (although Tony suspected that he was more of a do-it-yourself kind of guy).

That done, he carefully searched the house for cups or pots containing cold coffee and dumped them all. He considered draining the toilet reservoirs, but he doubted Gibbs would be that desperate this early on.

He'd just be cranky. Poor Ducky.

His vandalism complete, he stole out of the house and ran to his car. Once safely inside his beloved Mustang, Tony settled back to wait for Ducky's call.

** * ** * ** * **

Dr. Donald Mallard was thoroughly annoyed and very displeased with his friend's rather cavalier attitude toward his health. Jethro should have stayed in the hospital. He should be taking off work to rest and recover. And he _should_ let his friends help him. Well, not only was Leroy Jethro Gibbs not in the hospital, not planning on taking any time off, and absolutely _not_ going to tell anyone about his 'episode' – he was demanding that they stop for coffee and bagels.

Ducky sighed. He was tempted to stop by the coffee shop just to stop Jethro's scowling, but Anthony had specifically told Ducky to take him straight home. His refusal to stop for coffee, combined with his unusually slow driver, was making Jethro into a very cranky customer. He hoped Tony had a very good reason for forbidding the coffee stop.

** * ** * ** * **

"Anthony, dear boy, something terrible has happened!" Ducky's frantic exclamation assaulted Tony as soon as he opened his phone, not even allowing a friendly "hello", or, as was more likely, Tony's standard greeting of "DiNozzo".

"Slow down, Duck. If this is about the water – "

"Anthony, how did you know Jethro's water is out?" Ducky sounded singularly suspicious.

"Look, don't freak out on me, but I know because I did it." Tony tried to use his voice to project a calm he didn't feel. On the inside he was every bit as hysterical as Ducky, and he hadn't even faced Gibbs yet. Tony whimpered.

"I hope you had an excellent reason for doing so. Jethro is upset that he can't make coffee." This time Ducky sounded aggrieved. He might well be.

"That's just it, Duck. I talked to Gibbs' doctor and, well, he said" _be a man and get it over with, DiNozzo. _Tony took a deep breath. "Dr. Mansfield said that Gibbs shouldn't drink coffee for a week. He thinks that Gibbs caffeine intake may have caused the heart attack. Gibbs isn't supposed to drink coffee until next Monday, and even then he's not supposed to have more than three cups a day."

"What?!?" Tony winced in sympathy. "How on earth are we supposed to accomplish that?"

"Don't worry, Duck, I have a plan. Just see if you can get him to rest for – oh – the next two and a half hours he has before he has to head to work. Meet me at Gibbs' favorite coffee shop and I'll fill you in"

Ducky said a mournful goodbye before hanging up. Tony started his engine, trying not to dwell on how incredibly pissed his boss was going to be when his senior field agent showed up to work late – because that was part of his plan. He resisted the urge to bang his head against something hard.

Ducky was going to be in inconsolable and Gibbs – well, Gibbs was just going to be in a fan-frickin'-tastic mood.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Oh, poor Tony and Ducky, they have their work cut out for them, don't they? How long do you think it'll take for the 'family' to catch on to Tony's evil plot – have you caught it yet? Thanks for reading and please review?


	3. Chapter 3

For the third time in as many hours, Tony was driving frantically, racing against time. A quick stop at the closest open supermarket, a twenty-four hour pharmacy, and the ATM, left him breathless and harried. He'd left a trail of flustered employees behind him, and actually managed to knock over a display of sunscreen – the kind in the metal canisters – at the supermarket. He was very lucky there weren't any _visible_ bruises that he would have to explain away.

Having got what he needed, he sped down the road (and through at least three yellow lights and one red one) to Gibbs' Coffee Shop, where Ducky was no doubt waiting for him impatiently. This next week was starting to seem more and more like a suicide mission.

It was still early morning when he finally pulled into the Starbuck's parking lot; not quite 5:30am. Ducky was seated at a small round table near the door, with a cup of Earl Grey. He was staring pensively into its depths, but looked up when Tony entered.

"Anthony, I have been waiting for over twenty minutes! Back in my day, when someone made an appointment, it was considered a matter of honor to keep it, _on time_." Ducky looked and sounded very, very peeved.

"Duck!" Tony held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Easy, Duck, I'm sorry I kept you waiting. I had to run by the store. No worries, Duck, no worries." He smiled gently – the smile he used on frightened children or angry old ladies. He knew Ducky was just concerned about Jethro. The ME settled down, graciously allowing Tony to have the seat opposite him.

"I am sorry, my dear boy. I just worry about Jethro. I left him to rest, but it is doubtful that he will. Even if he does, he should be taking off from work. You know, this reminds me of the time –"

"Duck!" They didn't have time to dilly-dally around! Tony still had a gazillion things to do before he could head to work to do a gazillion more things.

"Ah, yes, some other time perhaps," Ducky conceded gracefully.

"Yeah. So, okay, here's the deal. Gibbs is supposed to take it easy for about a week. He needs to stay away from foods that might raise his cholesterol or blood pressure, get plenty of sleep, avoid stressful situations, and abstain from his life giving substance of choice, coffee." Tony was in full sit rep mode.

"You know Anthony, I am a medical doctor," Ducky stated dryly. "I have a fair idea of what Jethro needs right now."

"Uh, yeah, Duck, sorry." Ducky nodded his forgiveness. "Okay, so here's the plan. I'll take care of the coffee and resting and avoiding stressful situations." Tony's expression was a comical mixture of desperation and hysterics, but he continued with only a slight hitching in his voice. "That leaves the rest to you."

"So all _I _have to do is get Jethro to avoid greasy Chinese, cheeseburgers, and all his other favorites for a week. Not to mention get him to go home at the proper time and rest. You and I both know there is no way we'll get him actually take leave."

"Yeah, Duck, I know. But at least if he's at work, we'll know that he hasn't been over doing it-"

"As long as you don't get a case," Ducky interjected darkly.

"- and you have a secret weapon," Tony continued, overlooking Ducky's uncharacteristically moody contribution. "Gibbs doesn't know that I know about the heart attack – so if he doesn't do what you tell him to, you can threaten to tell me." The worried, sleep deprived ME perked up at this. Tony grinned – he truly was smarter than he looked.

"My dear boy!" Ducky exclaimed excitedly. "Was that your plan from the beginning? You know, no one gives you nearly enough credit – that is absolutely brilliant." Ducky's smile dimmed slightly. "But however do you plan to keep up your end of the deal without tipping him off?"

Tony grimaced slightly. That was the crux of the matter. He tried to look more confident than he felt.

"Ducky, I am a trained undercover agent – Gibbs won't know what hit him." Ducky looked at him with disbelief.

"You're going to try to fool Leroy Jethro Gibbs into not drinking coffee for a week?" Tony's co-conspirator was incredulous. "And I assume that you plan to use those same undercover skills to fool Abigail as well?"

"You have a better plan?" he shot back. The sometimes undercover operative didn't need anyone to point out that his plan was so full of holes a Foldgers' semi truck could drive through it without causing any more damage.

"Ah, I wish you the very best of luck, my dear boy, for Jethro's sake as well as your own." Standing, Ducky reached out to shake Tony's hand in farewell.

DiNozzo nodded solemnly as the ME turned to go. He could trust Ducky to handle his assignments – now he just needed to take care of his own. Sighing, he stood and walked to the counter.

"Good Morning!" He greeted the coffee girl cheerfully, giving her his most charming smile. The girl – "Tonya" according to her nametag – merely blew a bubble with her chewing gum and popped it loudly. Her response was something less than inspiring. Nevertheless, Tony had no choice but to trudge onward.

"I was actually wondering if – I mean – well…" Damn, that girl was unnerving. Tonya just stared at him blankly through his whole stammering routine. She reminded him of Kit in _Failure to Launch_. Maybe straight shooting was the best approach here. "Look, my boss had a heart attack this morning, and he's a notorious hard ass. He isn't supposed to drink coffee, but there's no way he'll quit on his own. I'm staging an intervention – I'll give you twenty bucks to switch his regular order for decaf."

The Kit double chewed her gum woodenly. DiNozzo raised his eyebrows – this was ridiculous.

"I kinda need an answer." He was definitely losing his patience. Kit, er, _Tonya_ cocked her head to one side.

"Aren't bribes illegal?"

"Uh, yeah." What else was he supposed to say? "I won't tell if you don't."

"Cool."

"So you'll do it then?"

"Make it thirty and you have a deal – Gibbs is our best customer." _God, even her voice is monotone, _he thought.

"Right, great." He fished out his wallet and handed her a wad of bills. "Pass the word on to whoever covers the shift this evening, and I'll cut them the same deal – well, my original deal. Gibbs gets no caffeine here."

"Sure thing, bucko." Kit pocketed the cash and went back to chewing her gum uninterestedly.

_Well, that should work for a while, at least, _Tony thought to himself as he jogged to his car. The last time Gibbs had accidentally consumed decaf he'd ruined Tony's favorite tie _and_ one of his nicer shirts in a spectacular brown spout that would have done Old Faithful proud. It wouldn't take Gibbs too long to discover that his favorite Starbucks had sold out.

Tony had until then to figure out what his next step.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Alrighty, folks. Sorry for the delay – I've kinda started another fic, so it make take me a little longer between chapters. At this point I'm updating the story that gets the most reviews first *hint, hint*. Anywho, thanks for reading and please review!


	4. Chapter 4

"Where the hell is DiNozzo?!?"

Startled, both McGee and Ziva shot to their feet as Gibbs barreled into the bullpen – five minutes late.

"Uh, B-boss?" McGee stammered – well, didn't he have the right to stammer? He'd _never_ heard his boss quite that upset, especially just because DiNozzo was late. DiNozzo was late all the time, but Gibbs very rarely got worked up about it. Usually he would just make some threatening sarcastic comment and forget about it. For his part, Tony would cringe, flinch, and apologize and move on.

"Well, McGee?" Gibbs snapped. When he realized he wasn't going to get an answer from the shocked agent, he turned to Ziva. "You know where he is?"

The liaison officer shook her head. She was just as puzzled and concerned as McGee. This was not normal behavior for Gibbs, even when Tony was late. Normally he just strode in coffee in hand – coffee in hand?

"Gibbs, did you not stop for coffee this morning?"

"Yes." Gibbs' scowl deepened. "Damn girl gave me decaf."

Both agents' eyes widened with sudden comprehension. No coffee – that explained the black mood. It was unfortunate for Tony that Gibbs seemed to need a target.

"Where the hell is DiNozzo?"

** * ** * ** * **

Fifteen minutes later DiNozzo limped off the elevator. His face was drawn and haggard. His shoulders slumped as if he were bearing an invisible burden.

Gibbs noticed this, but blamed it on some late night partying with too much booze. If he were less cranky, he would have reminded himself that DiNozzo rarely partied anymore, and almost never on a school night. On any other day, Gibbs might be concerned by the unusual behavior – but today it just made him mad.

"DiNozzo! Where the hell have you been?" Gibbs was barely conscious of the silence that descended on the bullpen. Everyone was watching him and DiNozzo.

"Easy, Boss" For his part, Tony knew he was going to have to tread carefully. He was supposed to keep Gibbs calm and unstressed – what a load of bull crap. He sighed in defeat – then smiled gamely as an idea struck him. "I think I have a case for us."

Gibbs stared at him in disbelief, but said nothing as Tony backed away from him and started up the stairs to the director's office. Well, he almost said nothing.

"We aren't done here, DiNozzo! Be late tomorrow and I'll fire your ass!"

** * ** * ** * **

Tony frowned. Usually Gibbs was more creative with his threats. He must really be feeling lousy.

Quickly pushing aside those rather depressing thoughts, Tony ran through his proposal and tried to muster a smile for Cynthia.

"Agent DiNozzo?" Cynthia sounded concerned. "Is everything all right? You look-"

"I'm fine, Cynthia." Tony mustered that smile. "I need to speak with the Director, is she in?"

"She's in MTAC, but she should be back in a few minutes."

"Thanks. If you don't mind, I'll just wait in her office."

Cynthia nodded, still giving Tony funny half concerned, half confused looks. He smiled again, hoping to put her worries at ease. It didn't work.

He shrugged mentally – maybe his smile was broken? It hadn't worked all morning. First Ducky, then Kit, and now Cynthia. He had to do something – he was going to need the persuasive power of his smile if he was going to convince Jenny to play along with his scheme.

Surveying the large office, Tony spotted a mirror hanging above the couch. Resolutely, he marched over to it and began practicing his smile.

His was still making faces at the mirror when the director walked in.

"Agent DiNozzo, there are mirrors in the men's room, if you are so worried about your appearance."

"Erm, no, Director." Tony fidgeted slightly – this was not an auspicious beginning. "I need to talk to you about Jethro."

Director Sheppard's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. This was not a usual turn of events.

"Is something the matter, Agent DiNozzo?" From the expression on her face, Tony could tell that she was more concerned about _his_ state of mind than Jethro. She moved to sit behind her desk, and Tony wonder if she took any comfort in the pistol he knew she kept in the top right hand drawer.

"Ducky called me this morning." Tony sat in one of the plump, straight backed black chairs positioned in front of Jenny's desk. "From Bethesda. Gibbs had a heart attack."

"Are you being serious?" Tony sighed. Now Jenny was going into protective mode. He'd have to talk her out of mandatory medical leave.

"Yes. The doctor said it was only a mild one – he was in his basement when it happened. He managed to dial 911, but conked his head shortly after. Mild concussion."

"Was he released?" Jenny demanded. Tony made a face – considering the source that was a stupid question.

"What do you think?" Jenny sighed and nodded.

"I can assign forced medical leave – how long did the doctor suggest?" Bingo – exactly what Tony had anticipated. She'd do it, too. She might even assign a guard to make sure he _stayed_ home.

"No good, Director. Doctor said no coffee for a week. We need him where I can keep an eye on him."

Tony actually derived some amusement from Jenny's horrified expression. It seems that the longer a person knew Gibbs, the more dramatic the response to his 'news'. _You'd think they'd be more concerned about the heart attack – but no. Gibbs off coffee equals worst nightmare._ DiNozzo hid his grin. Hey – he'd always been able to find humor, even in extremely unpleasant circumstances. This one was no different.

"You get a case and you're screwed. I take you off rotation and Jethro will eat you alive."

Tony nodded – this was going much better than he had expected. He took a deep breath to gather his courage.

"I know. Which is why I have a plan. Assign us a cold case." Jenny raised her eyebrow.

"You have a particular case in mind, Agent DiNozzo." Her tone said that she knew he did – and she was fairly sure that Gibbs was NOT going to like it.

"Director, I have a lead on the Wetherly case." The director's eyes widened. She probably thought Tony was insane. "That'll be a couple of days here, catching up. After that, Gibbs will want to go over the scene again – with a fine toothed comb."

"Tony, you're insane! You want to go - with Gibbs, and no caffeine?"

He nodded solemnly. Gibbs had saved his ass more than once – it was time to return the favor.

Even if it meant – he refused to think about it right now. He wouldn't. There would be plenty of time to dwell after he'd told Gibbs.

"I think it's going to take all week, Director." Jenny nodded back.

"Of course it will. You're a brave man, Tony." Jenny smiled. "I'll let you tell him."

Tony didn't cringe too badly – he'd expected as much. Suddenly he wished he'd talked this over with Ducky first. Ducky might have talked him out of it. Well, he'd always been impulsive. Besides, it was for the Boss's own good.

He slowly walked out of the director's office. So what, they were going to go back over the Wetherly case. So what if that meant a trip to the East Ridge Mountains. It'd be just like a father-son camping trip, right? Those weren't that bad, were they?

Gibbs was like ten times the man Tony's own father was – so it really couldn't be _that_ bad. Nah, sure it wouldn't. Tony forced his legs to move. He just had to go explain to Gibbs why he'd gone to the director first. And why he'd asked for the Wetherly case. Right.

Piece of cake.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N: **Again, sorry about the delay. Thanks for reading and please, please review! ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs observed his senior field agent as he stumped down the stairs that led from the balcony adjacent to the directors to the bullpen. He looked as if he were marching to the guillotine. Gibbs looked down at his desk and growled. There may be some truth in that statement – he was still missing DiNozzo's last report.

"DiNozzo! Why isn't your report on my desk?" Gibbs demanded as soon as his senior field agent entered the Team Gibbs Zone. Tony paled, but his lips formed a resolute line.

"Sorry, Boss, musta forgot to hand it in." Plastering a convincingly sheepish look on his face, he elaborated. "I just talked to the Director about a cold case. I know it's one you hate, so I was hoping she'd assign the lead to some other team."

Not good. Gibbs growled again.

"But?" He prompted.

"Sorry, Boss. Madam Director wants us to look into my lead on the Weatherly case." The senior field agent looked truly contrite.

Gibbs swore loudly.

"Dammit Tony! Why were you even looking at that case?" The Weatherly case was an old missing persons report that he and Tony had worked just before Kate came on board. It was their first unsolved case and Tony usually only dragged it out when he was feeling guilty or like a failure.

Gibbs' gut told him that it was related to two other unsolved cases, but they had never been unable to find sufficient evidence to support the connection. They'd spent three months getting to know the families and searching the sites of disappearance.

Gibbs hated that case.

He hated it because Merry Weatherly was a six year old deaf girl, the only child of Michael and Paulette Weatherly.

He sighed. This was _not_ how he wanted to spend his week. He really didn't need the stress.

Ducky was going to kill him.

** * ** * ** * **

"You did _what?_" Ducky was practically yelling. _I'm not sure I've ever heard him yell_, Tony mused. Well, not like that, anyway. He almost sounded like Gibbs after Tony did or said something remarkably stupid.

"You heard me right, Duck."

"Anthony DiNozzo!" Ducky scolded with wild abandon, "Working the Weatherly case will most certainly _not_ be conducive to a restful, stress free week for Jethro!"

Tony glowered. Sure, he knew it wasn't a foolproof plan. It had a few holes, but it was the best he could come up with. Besides, he would be getting Gibbs away from the office – that had to count for something, right?

"Please, Duck, give me some credit! It's _the first day_ of Gibbs' impossible caffeine free week and I'm _this close_" Tony held his thumb and forefinger and hair's breadth apart "to losing my mind!"

"You're right, my dear boy. Perhaps it is best to get Jethro out of the office." Ducky huffed apologetically. "Still, it would have been nice if there had been a different case."

"I know." Tony rubbed his forehead. "I still have to come up with a lead!"

The elderly ME's eyebrows rose.

"I told Gibbs I wanted to double check some things in the autopsy report from the Grant case before I gave everybody the run down."

"And he let you?" That was alarming – Gibbs was not known for allowing his agents to head their own investigations right under his nose.

"Yeah – probably because he wanted a chance to get a cup of coffee before we started." Tony grinned wryly at Ducky's alarmed expression. "But don't worry – I bribed the guard to 'accidently' eliminate his coffee."

"He's new here?" There were only a few excuses for such suicidal behavior. Tony smirked.

"Second day – he can consider it his hazing. Plus, he made twenty bucks." Ducky shook his head – normally he would rebuke Tony for being cruel and unusual, but considering the circumstances, it was a rather inventive solution. "So, Duck, I need the Grant autopsy report."

"Hmm, I thought you hadn't proven a solid connection?" The Scotsman waddled over to a filing cabinet and began rummaging through one of the drawers.

"Haven't yet, Duck, but I trust Gibbs' gut." Tony did his best to project more confidence than he felt.

This was his only shot.

** * ** * ** * **

Ten minutes later Tony made his way up to the bullpen, case file in hand. He had it – a plausible excuse for a trip to the Appalachian Mountains with Gibbs.

_Oh, goody_, he thought dryly.

Two minutes later a very unpleasant looking, coffee stained Gibbs stormed past his desk. Tony winced – he was going to have to play this very carefully. Out of the corner of his eye he caught McGee and Ziva trading bewildered looks.

"Going for a new look, Boss?" he quipped without thinking. _Damnit, Tony, you _don't_ bait Hurricane Gibbs_, he railed at himself. Sometimes he wished he wasn't such a smartass. Sometimes.

This was definitely one of those times.

Gibbs' response was a painful as it was predictable. Tony rubbed his head where Gibbs' hand had connected roughly.

"What do you think, DiNozzo?" he snapped angrily.

"Right, sorry Boss." Tony fidgeted in his seat, aware of Ziva and McGee unbelieving stares. Usually he wasn't that stupid. He shrugged to himself – he was under a lot of stress right now! "Anyway, Boss, I think I actually found a good lead."

Gibbs grunted.

"We've been assuming that Thomas Grant tried to impede the kidnapping of Rachel Connely – but what if he was an accomplice?" Tony couldn't help but sound a little excited – it might actually turn out to be a legitimate lead. Proper motivation could lead to all kinds of inventive solutions.

And it was plenty inventive. They'd originally assumed, because of the nature of Grant's wounds that he'd been attacked from the front only three days after Rachel's disappearance. Thomas Grant was a supervisor at anearby silver mine and a model citizen. During the autopsy, Ducky had discovered some unusual _things_ – Tony didn't know what kind of things – and requested Abby to check for radiation.

It turned out that the miners were being exposed to unhealthy doses of radiation – that was either a new development, or deliberately covered up. Grant, and any of the mine's full-time workers, would leave behind a radioactive trail. They hadn't checked it before because they'd thought Grant was a good guy.

"We found the same type of radiation on both Grant's clothing and Merry's shoe, which we found on a trail leading down the mountain. The radiation Abby found on his clothing might have been indirectly transferred to Merry's shoe, instead of being there because the Weatherly's neighbor worked at the same mine. But, if Grant was an accomplice, it would link the Connely case and the Weatherly case. It would also mean that there would be minute traces of radiation left behind wherever Merry was kept!"

"I don't understand, Tony. Grant was dead before Merry was kidnapped – how would the radiation be transferred from him to her shoe?" That was McGee. It was also a good question.

"The three kids disappeared from the same general area – less than 40 miles from the mine. If Grant was in on the first two – or even just one – abduction, then the 'hideout' would've been contaminated. If I'm right, Grant and the other perp used the same hideout each time. If the kidnapper used the same location to 'subdue' Merry, radiation would have gotten on her shoe."

Gibbs nodded slowly. It was a long shot. Even if they took a Geiger counter up to the mountains and actually found whatever remote cave or cabin the girl was kept until it was safe for the kidnapper to move her, the crime scene would be old – too old to be of much use. Tony read the doubtful expression on Gibbs' face.

"The Director thinks it's worth looking into." He grimaced inwardly – he would almost rather bite off his own head than say that. Going over Gibbs' head for _anything_ was a very, very bad idea.

He took it well, though.

"Director say whether I should pack boxers or briefs for our trip, DiNozzo?" Gibbs tone was scathing and his expression black. At least he hadn't thrown anything.

Tony bit his lip.

"Fine." Gibbs ground his teeth and turned to address the two innocent by-standers. "McGee, David, go over the Weatherly, Connely, and Attkison missing persons cases. Double check everything. DiNozzo and I are going back to Ketchum's point – to check for radiation."

Tony was relieved – he wondered if that meant he was crazy?

Gibbs whirled to face Tony.

"I swear, DiNozzo, if we don't find anything…" Gibbs left the threat hanging.

Tony gulped.

Yes, he was definitely crazy.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Let the fun begin! This is my first time writing about an actual case, so please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome! So thanks for reading, and please review. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

"So, Tony, you and Gibbs' gonna have fun in the mountains?" McGee asked with a sly smile.

Tony growled. Between doing his actual job, keeping tabs on Gibbs, _and_ planning a coffee-free camping trip, he didn't have time for McGee's ribbing.

"Yes, Tony, a son and father camping trip? It should be _fun_, yes?"

Or Ziva's.

"It's Father and Son, Ziva," he corrected irritably, not bothering to look up from his computer.

"It is the same thing! What difference does it make, the order in which you say it? Father and Son, Son and Father?"

"I dunno, it's just the way you say it!"

McGee coughed awkwardly. Tony guessed he'd been a little…vehement in his response to Ziva. He didn't need them mad at him too. Sighing, he glanced up at his teammates.

They both stared back at him with slightly concerned expressions.

Well, they had reason to be concerned – he was going to be dead in a few hours.

He was so not prepared for this – he had anticipated at least a day, maybe two, spent here double checking his lead. Well, really, he had expected Gibbs to order _them_ to double check as an excuse to stick around, waiting for a new case to come up. He hated the Weatherly case, and Tony couldn't really blame him.

Still, it was the best he could do on short notice.

And, damn, speaking of short notice, he needed to let Abby know he was going camping with Gibbs. Not only that, but he needed to borrow her Geiger counter.

He sighed, realizing that McGee and Ziva were still staring at him.

"What?" he snapped, trying to infuse his normal goofy irritation into his response. "You try telling Abby that you want to take her Geiger counter into the woods with a cranky Gibbs and see how sane you are!"

His partners snickered.

"It is your own fault, Tony." Ziva reminded him. It took quite a bit of effort on his part not to snarl at her.

As it was he abruptly gathered his gear and headed for the elevator.

Gibbs would probably want to leave sooner than later and Tony had a whole slew of things he needed get done before departure.

** * ** * ** * **

Abby was bopping about her lab to a heavy metal band Tony didn't recognize.

Not that he was ever really able to tell them apart. Sighing, he reached out and tapped a button on her pricey neon green – of all the color she could have chosen – boom box, relaxing slightly when the music abruptly cut out.

"You! No tampering with my mood music, Tony!"

Well, that had him tensed up and stressed out all over again. He held his hands out in front of him, palms out in surrender.

"Sorry, Abby. I just need to borrow your Geiger counter."

He hoped that would side track the Wrath of Abby – she loved to talk biz. Unfortunately, she was just looking at him with a strange combination of suspicion and flummox-ed-ness.

_Is that last even a word? Get a grip on yourself, Tony!_

"Usually you pretend you don't even know what one of those is. Why do you want to borrow _mine_."

"Well, technically, it belongs to NCIS –"

Abby's eyes narrowed and Tony cut himself off with a gulp.

"What aren't you telling me, mister?" She demanded, hands firmly planted on her hips.

"We're going camping. Need to borrow the radiation sniffer thingy, Abbs."

"Gibbs!" Abby twirled around and greeted the gray-haired agent with an enthusiastic hug.

Tony's own response was much less… cheerful. It had been years since Gibbs had been able to surprise him like that. Also –

Tony nearly had a heart attack of his own when he noticed the small, innocent Styrofoam cup that appeared to be welded to Gibbs' left hand. Vaguely, Tony registered that Gibbs was handing over a large Caf-pow! while Abby chirped at him happily.

He tuned out Abby's chatter – no doubt she were talking about Tony's imminent demise, er, the 'camping trip' – pestering Gibbs for the juicy details.

His whole world, however, was revolving around that damn cup of coffee.

_Which one of these things does not belong…_

The non-hysterical portion of Tony's mind (which was a very, very small sliver, indeed) found a perverse sort of humor in the children's song-rhyme.

_What the hell?_

He was a federal agent! Wasn't he supposed to remain calm and _sane_ during a crisis?

His train of thought barreled off the tracks as Gibbs lifted the cup – as if to drink from it.

Tony's response was automatic – his right arm jerked up of its own violation while his mouth screamed something.

Then everything snapped back to real-time – funny, but Tony kind of missed the slow-mo – and Tony found himself facing two very unhappy campers.

Damn the pun.

Gibbs was splattered with coffee for the second time that morning, and the younger agent could do nothing but stare at the dark drip that quivered at the end of Gibbs' nose.

Abby was already in motion, feverishly wiping the liquid from the keyboard of the nearest computer – while glaring at him intermittently, of course.

"Did you yell _fire_, Tony?" Abby asked darkly.

Had he?

"Um, well, ah…" Tony scratched his head, trying to look innocently nervous. Only half of that combination gave him any real trouble. "You – there was a spider, Boss."

"In my coffee, DiNozzo?"

Yeah, that sounded lame to Tony too.

"Nooo…" Well, where the hell was the spider then? "It was on your collar, Boss. But don't worry – I got it."

He also got a really terrific whack to the back of his head.

When the world stopped spinning, he discovered that Abby had absolutely no pity for him. Gibbs tromped off, reminding him that they would be leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning.

Abby bossed him into cleaning every vestige of coffee from anything even remotely electronic – even the remote for her green stereo.

By the time he had finished, it was lunch time – and Tony realized he could relax.

Ducky had lunch duty.

Tony grinned – _Ducky_ had lunch duty.

Tony got the Geiger counter from Abby before skipping off to his own lunch break.

Pizza – he'd have one last wonderful American pizza before his facing his fate.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs took autopsy by storm.

He was covered in _two_ cups of coffee, had gotten no sleep the night before, and was attempting to forget about his recent trip to the ER.

A heart attack.

Old men got heart attacks – Gibbs was not an old man.

He wasn't even fifty yet – he was _not_ old. What was next? He hadn't even gone through the requisite 'mid-life crisis' yet.

That would be enough crap to deal with – but, no.

Not only was the universe out to get him, but so was Tony DiNozzo.

Someone had to answer for this – or, at the very least, _explain_ to him what was going through the dense brain of his thick-headed agent.

"Duck!"

"Oh, hello, Jethro." Dr. Mallard was seated calmly at his desk in the corner of the room. "How are you feeling? I really think you should have at least taken the day off –"

"Does DiNozzo know?" Gibbs cut through Ducky's concerned monologue. He wasn't in the mood to hear it.

Ducky raised his eyebrows.

"Well, certainly, the young man _should_ know. However, I recall _someone_ forbidding me to mention it to him." Ducky's glare was reproachful. Of course, he had argued quite vehemently against keeping Tony and Abby out of the loop.

But Gibbs refused to let them hover around him like he was about to break. He was not old and, dammit, he was _not_ fragile.

"Then what the hell is up with him?"

Ducky opened his mouth to respond, but Gibbs knew it would just be a string of platitudes. The M.E. wasn't about to clue him in on anything – even if he knew the answer.

Frustrated, Gibbs turned to leave.

It was lunch time – he wanted a burger and fries and a large, steaming cup of _strong_ black coffee.

The universe could just try to ruin his plans. Nothing was going to –

"Jethro, wait just a moment, if you would."

Gibbs knew that tone – he'd been friends with Ducky for a very long time. That _tone_ never brought anything good with it. He froze in anticipation.

"I took the liberty of order our lunches, Jethro, I hope you don't mind." Ducky's expression told Gibbs that, yes, the M.E. expected Gibbs to mind very much. Gibbs refused to comment – he knew it wouldn't do him any good. Ducky's next words merely confirmed his suspicions. "Salads, Jethro. However, if you want something else, I'm sure Anthony wouldn't mind picking something up. I'm sure he could come up with some creative ways to conform to the strict diet your doctor prescribed."

Well, wasn't that just shitty. Tea and rabbit food –

The universe may have won this round, but the war was not yet over.

Gibbs ate his salad quietly, planning out his evening carefully. There were exactly four coffee shops between NCIS and his house – there was no way all four cups (eight if he ordered double) would be taken out by the enemy.

Yes, Gibbs knew there was an enemy – he just didn't know exactly who or what he was up against.

But that didn't matter – he was a marine.

And he would win.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** Sorry it took me so long to update, but here you are – chapter 6. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

There were exactly four coffee shops between NCIS headquarters and Gibbs' house. Well… it _did _require a bit of creative routing to make all four, but Tony knew Gibbs wouldn't actually consider it a detour. Odd, for a man who didn't lock his front door, but Tony was pretty sure that Gibbs never took the direct route home.

Whatever. Tony was not about to spend time trying to unravel the Mystery that was Gibbs when he _should_ be plotting and scheming and conniving and…

Hey, what did that remind him of?

A certain redhead.

Oh shit, he was going to hell.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Riiiing Riiiing Rii-_

"What?"

Gibbs groaned. Out loud.

Usually, he would take this type of blow stoically, with only a mysteriously abrupt mood swing to show his displeasure. He blamed nearly a full day of coffee deprivation. Whatever cosmic joke this was – whatever.

He would meet with his third ex-wife and then head home to his boat and – _forget_ coffee – a nice long drink of bourbon.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Tony watched discretely from his desk as Gibbs answered a very carefully orchestrated phone call from his third ex-wife. He deliberately did not think about what it had taken to get the ex-Mrs. Gibbs to play along with his ruse – he felt _dirty_.

But he was pretty sure it would be enough of a hassle to get Gibbs to skip the C word for the evening. Nah, being this frustrated after a long day – yes, Tony knew he was supposed to keep Gibbs from being stressed, but _something_ had to give a little – his boss would go straight for the three B's.

Basement, boat, and bourbon.

_Wait a minute…_

Tony reached again for his phone in a somewhat panicked scramble.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ducky frowned unhappily at his phone.

He knew it wasn't fair, but he couldn't help feeling very peeved at a certain young man. Yes, Tony had been remarkably adept at performing a seemingly impossible task – all day. However, that did not make Ducky any happier to be assigned the night watch.

Yes, Tony's argument had been very compelling.

Ducky, as the only one 'officially' in the 'know', was the only person that could express legitimate concerns about Jethro's health. There was also the additional incentive of the Inexplicable Water Outage at Gibbs' house. So, really, according to Anthony, most of the work had already been done.

Ducky would even have time to go home and hide all of his alcohol before demanding Jethro spend the night with him.

Still, if anything in the world deserved the phrase "easier said than done", getting Leroy Jethro Gibbs to come peacefully into a gilt prison definitely did.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Thoroughly exhausted, Tony rested his head on his desk.

Gibbs had uncharacteristically sent Ziva and McGee home early, then left himself. Both agents had been happy to go, and Abby had been just as happy to hide in her lab once Gibbs' truly spectacular bad mood had made itself known.

That had left Tony – and Ducky, to a lesser extent – with all day Gibbs watching duty.

There had been only two more 'coffee attempts' after the Fire Spider incident in Abby's lab, but a well meaning intern had brought a box of doughnuts in after lunch. Between pastry patrol – which Tony had ended effectively by consuming most of the doughnuts himself – and the preventative measures that needed to be in place before Gibbs went home for the night, Tony had gotten very little actual work done.

Which, usually, would not have been a big deal. However, McGee and Ziva had gotten very little work done, either, between being unfamiliar with the cold case and unused to the Fire-breathing version of Gibbs.

Knowing it was up to him to pick up the slack before tomorrow morning, the agent sat up and blinked blankly at the Weatherly file. He needed to think.

Closing his eyes, he quickly rehashed what he knew.

Almost four years ago eight year old Sarah Attkison had gone missing from eighteen-twenty-four Hacksel Lane. Sarah's disappearance had been investigated by the local LEO's and, later, the FBI, but never resolved. Circumstantial evidence had led to a handful of interviews of Stern and Son Silver Mine employees, but no connection had been proven. Radiation found at the house had been easily explained away – Vicksburg was a very small town and nearly half the working class men drove the thirty minutes to the mine for work.

Rachael Connely, age seven, had gone missing seven months later. Due to a better home situation, the case had been immediately brought to the FBI as a kidnapping case, rather than first being considered a possible run-away. Rachael and her parents had lived in Jackson, slightly larger town that was nearly an hour drive to the mine, due to traffic. Radiation had been found at the Connely's house, as well, but had been dismissed as evidence due to the fact that a neighbor and close family friend was a supervisor at Stern's. A witness came forward four days later and claimed to have seen the girl being dragged into a black van with no plates.

Three weeks after Rachael's disappearance, the same witness, a man named Thomas Grant, was found stabbed to death in Sevville, Virgina.

Three days later, six year old Merry Weatherly was abducted from a park in Sevville. Merry had been the granddaughter of a Navy Captain. NCIS hadn't really had jurisdiction, but had been called in through _politics_ that Tony didn't even pretend to care about.

He had only cared about the missing girl.

Tony tried to review only the facts of the case, but he couldn't push away the very real memories of the hours and hours he and Gibbs had spent looking for that little girl. It had been Tony that, through as series of gut feelings, instincts, and _very_ circumstantial evidence had linked the three cases and the silver mine.

Tony's hunches had led to nothing more than the recovery of Merry's irradiated shoe on a trail in the Appalachians. He recalled, vividly, finding the small, pink shoe on a wild, overgrown unmarked trail smack in the middle of the Appalachians. It had been a tennis shoe with clumsily knotted strings.

Tony remembered wondering if Merry had tied it herself – something she would have only recently learned to do. He wondered if her parents had taught her with a rhyme, like the fox chasing a rabbit, or a butterfly circling a flower.

Merry's case had drawn more public attention than the last two – which had sparked an investigation into the mine's 'radiation problem'. The mine had been deemed unsafe and shut down only two months after Merry's disappearance, and two days before Tony's Eureka Moment. The investigation into the mine's health and safety measures had attracted alphabet soup galore – NCIS requested employee records, but had been told to wait in line like a good little agency.

And the case had been shuffled to the back burner, slowly going cold.

Feeling the old desperation well up in him, Tony opened his eyes, focusing on the abandoned bullpen. It was late and most of his co-workers had long since gone home.

Tony toyed with the idea of calling Ducky – but decided against it. Gibbs, were he witness to the call, would become even more suspicious than he had been.

Damn, but it hadn't even been twenty-four hours since that terrifying phone call and Tony was ready to collapse. He'd called Gibbs' _ex_ for heaven's sake! He was already desperate.

He needed a solid lead – he needed to get Gibbs out to the Appalachians pronto! It wouldn't be better – Gibbs would be very, _very_ cranky – but it would be easier.

Closing his eyes again, Tony returned to the case.

Thomas Grant's death had been investigated by the FBI agents who had work Rachael's case. The body had lent very few clues, but a few of them Tony had found useful. Even more useful, now, since he had inadvertently picked up some of Ducky's mad profiling skills.

Grant had been attacked from the front and had sported several defensive wounds. The FBI had decided that Rachael's abductor had learned somehow of Grant's statement – and had killed the only 'witness' against him.

Tony, however, was beginning to wonder. Hindsight prompted him to ask _why_ Grant had been in Sevville – no family, friends, or business known. Why had Grant waited four days to come to the police with his statement?

And where had Grant been exposed to Stern and Son type radiation?

New working theory – Grant was an accomplice. There had been some sort of discontent between Grant and the other kidnapper. Grant had used his 'statement' to prove a point, maybe. The other kidnapper didn't respond so well.

If this was true, it definitely linked Rachael and Merry's disappearances.

Tony would bet money that the kidnapper had been employed at that damn mine – the one that, health regulation violations or not – Tony had wished had stayed open just a few months longer.

It was a weak theory, barely there, but it was enough for Tony to build a plan of action from. He began a list.

Ducky should build a profile for this guy, assuming that the same man had taken both Rachael and Merry, and then consider the likelihood that Sarah was another victim.

If Tony was right, and they were dealing with a serial offender, Ducky's profiles of both the offender and the victims could be used by Ziva and McGee. Ziva would search through reports for any similar disappearances of young girls, in case – _god forbid_ – the monster Tony hadn't caught was still active, still in the area. McGee would be able to get a hold of employee records from the mine. Tony hadn't been able to, years ago, but McGee – well, Tony wasn't too big to admit that Tim was just a tiny bit smarter than he.

When it came to computers.

Just a tiny bit.

_Ooookay_, _really, trying to keep my feelings of inadequacy from myself? I need to sleep._

Tony finished his list, doing his best to come up with several things to keep all of them, including Abby, busy for the next few days.

McGee and Ziva could handle being on their own for that long. Surely.

That let Tony push the camping trip ahead of schedule.

Estimated time of departure? Tomorrow morning.

Tony grinned in satisfaction. _Ha! Take that Boss. No coffee, burgers, or bourbon in the mountains!_

_Or boats!_

Just as quickly, though, his grin faded. He had a _crapload_ of things to do before they could go camping.

Would they be needing sunscreen?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Morning had Gibbs cursing at the world in general and Ducky in particular.

Tea and rabbit food was _not_ his idea of breakfast.

Ducky had taken the time to point out that mangos, pineapples, and tangerines were not really rabbit food. Perhaps some type of Macaw or other tropical bird…

Gibbs had tuned him out for once, rather than interrupting. He glumly ate the bird food, glared at his cup of untouched tea, and thought about strangling DiNozzo.

Despite Ducky's assurance that DiNozzo did _not_ know about Gibbs' recent…health issue, Gibbs couldn't really explain his recent run of bad luck any other way. In his experience, when his luck turned this way – when _anyone's _luck turned this bad – DiNozzo was somehow involved.

Gibbs didn't know how, or why, but Tony had something to do with his very irritating, coffeeless, sugarless, meatless, alcohol-less state.

And Gibbs could probably blame the flood in his garage on the agent, too, somehow.

He definitely knew that DiNozzo's terrible timing with the Weatherly case was not accidental. Why Tony thought it was a good idea….

The whole thing smacked of DiNozzo logic.

Gibbs hated it. It could be useful, at times, but mostly it was just painful – especially for the person on the receiving end. The more he thought about it, the more Gibbs suspected that person was _him._

Well, the upcoming camping trip would give him the time he needed to confront his wayward agent. Gibbs was almost looking forward to getting away from the office – it was as close to taking leave, as per the doctor's orders, as he was willing to come. DiNozzo could be irritating, but he mostly behaved when it was just him and the Boss. If he behaved too well, Gibbs might get bored – but he would _never_ admit that aloud. To anyone.

As soon as he was out of Ducky's sight, he would caffeinate himself – and maybe grab a doughnut or a bagel – and inform DiNozzo that they would be shipping out early. Today.

Gibbs didn't even need to go pack, he kept an extra bag and survival gear in the charger – all of his team did, so DiNozzo wouldn't have to pack either.

A convenience store or gas station would have all the canned foodstuffs and bottled water that they would need. And ground coffee – yes, coffee…

Feeling better now that he had a definite plan to escape Ducky's stifling care, Gibbs finished off his breakfast with more gusto than it deserved.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Goooooood morning, Zeee-vah," Tony crowed from his desk. It wasn't, but she didn't need to know that.

He had gotten to work early, ready to dash back out in case Ducky 'lost' Gibbs on his way to work. The ME hadn't called, though, so Tony had spent the time pondering how he was going to get Gibbs to leave for the mountains earlier than planned.

He had also briefed the Director on progress, both with the official case and operation Gibbs-Must-Not-Have-Coffee.

His bags were packed and the rental pick-up that Tony had wrangled Director Shepard into expensing was loaded with Ducky approved foodstuffs, hiking gear, tents, sleeping bags and the like.

Coffee, too, of course.

Decaf.

He even made Gibbs a thermos of his favorite brew – decaf – as incentive.

Tony knew that Gibbs would figure out his game very, very soon. Trick was to get him far enough out that turning back would be unacceptable. That was one good thing about the Weatherly case – the very personal chord it struck with both agents would lend a certain urgency and determination to the investigation that any other cold case might not have garnered.

Ziva arched her eyebrow. Tony quickly checked his smile, in case his less-than-happy trail of thought had shown on his face.

Nope, still there.

"You are very…" she paused, squinting at him "cheery this morning. You have not found a way out of this _son and father_ camping trip, by any chance?"

Ziva posed the question slyly, insinuating that she was on to his game. He frowned at the slight emphasis on 'son and father'. Ziva was testing him – both she and McGee had developed a certain appreciation for his ability to hide anxiety. A certain appreciation, though, was not necessarily a _true_ appreciation.

"_Father and Son_," Tony corrected gamely. "And, no, I have _not_ found a 'way out' of the camping trip. I think it might be fun. Just two men roughing it. Tracking the bad guys through nature like-" Tony paused, overwhelmed with the sheer number of movie references that would fit here - how cool was that? – and completely missed his window of opportunity.

"Like _today_, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked. He stormed by, as usual. He was sans coffee cup, Tony was very pleased to note. Also, he had just solved Tony's morning conundrum on his own.

"Guess that means you're ready to go, then, Boss?" Tony grinned widely, doing his best to sound truly excited.

Ziva snorted at his foolishness.

"Better question: Are _you_ ready, DiNozzo?" Gibbs glared, clearly expecting a negative.

_Ha, _Tony thought, _we'll get halfway out, and he'll wonder why this was so easy…_

"Absolutely, Boss. This was my idea, so I got the Director to rent us a truck. It's packed and ready to go. Got everything we're gonna need. Tents, sleeping bags, food – _awesome camping food_ – maps, portable DVD player, harmonica –"

"This isn't a pleasure trip, DiNozzo!"

"Oh, of course not, Boss!" So, maybe he had come on a little strong. But when didn't he? And that little blip about the food – totally a lie. "But, that doesn't mean that we can't have _any_ fun."

Gibbs' glare was his only response.

Tony turned back to Ziva, relief slowly filtering through his system. The one touchy subject he didn't want –

"Coffee, DiNozzo?"

_Shit_.

"Don't worry about the coffee, Boss," Tony said, doing his level best to sound natural and convincing. Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "Hey! Like I would be crazy enough to forget the _coffee_. I know how you get –"

"How I _get_?"

"Not that there's anything wrong with the way you get. I mean, a little caffeine dependence isn't a _bad_ thing. It's – just –" Tony spluttered, knowing that nervousness of the boss was always believable.

Mostly because it tended to be genuine.

To prove himself, Tony thrust the thermos of decaf at his boss. He held his breath as the agent snatched it from his grip, hoping beyond hope that Gibbs' thirty-four hours of coffee deprivation had weakened his ability to detect decaf.

Only after Gibbs had wordlessly taken a second swallow did Tony breathe again. Gibbs' must have been truly desperate to not notice Tony's trick.

Not bothering to say thank you Gibbs ambled off toward the elevator, most likely going to inform Jenny or Ducky or both of their new departure date.

Hopefully his peace offering would make Gibbs somewhat more malleable. Tony stared at the silver doors of the elevator after they closed.

Yeah… that would happen.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

**A/N**: Yes, I know it's been a very long time since my last update. Suuuper sorry. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks for reading and please review!


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